


SuperWhoLock: The Sniper's Last Shot

by orphan_account, Snowtake



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Superwholock - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Gore, Case Fic, Crimes & Criminals, Faked Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Organized Crime, Serial Killers, Serial Killing, SuperWhoLock yay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowtake/pseuds/Snowtake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock isn't dead. Never was. </p><p>But so is Jim Moriarty. </p><p>How can a Time Lord, the world's greatest Hunters, an Angel of the Lord, a Consulting Detective and an ex - military doctor stop the return of the smartest Consulting Criminal in the world when his Right Hand Man is intent on bringing him back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! First collab fic huh, so yeah. enjoy! :D and feedbacks are always welcome ;) ~theGWof221B
> 
> Hey! First of all, I've never worked with someone before. Something new! ;) Second of all, you can ask me to write fics on tumblr (Snowtake). Enjoy! :) -Snowtake

"Doc, its Sherlock. He's dead."

 

"Dead?" The Doctor asked.

 

"Yeah, dead, dead. But I'm thinking its kinda fishy. He said he's a fake before he died." Dean answered and spared his brother a glance before continuing. "But I dont think he is, there's something wrong here."

 

There was that fluttering sound of wings around them before someone grabbed the phone from Dean's hand.

 

"You better bring Sherlock here, Doctor. We need to talk." Castiel said, slightly growling the words out before killing the line and throwing the phone back to Dean.

 

"What the hell did you just say?!" Dean asked, shock evident in his face.

 

"Sherlock faked his death. And the Doctor helped him." Castiel said as the TARDIS sounds resonate around them and the blue box appeared behind the angel.

 

Castiel turned around to see the Doctor opening the TARDIS door. Dean followed his movements with his eyes as Castiel took a step closer to the Doctor.

 

“Why did you help him? Why did he say all those lies before jumping?”

 

The Time Lord closed his eyes as to protect himself from the questions. But before he could say anything, John rounded on him –his eyes filled with hope.

 

“Wait. So you’re saying he's still alive?”

 

They all waited for the angry words they were sure will come out of the ex-soldier but John remained silent.

 

The angel turned his attention to him. “Yes. I'm saying he's still alive. Alive and well actually. I can sense it. Isn't it, Doctor?”

 

'You don't understand...' the Doctor began. “…We have to do it."

 

"Do what?" John asked. The doctor -who actually finished medicine- starts to tremble, clenching his fist like he wants to punch something , or someone.

 

"Dismantle Moriarty's network." Sam supplied. The Doctor still couldn't look them in the eye and kept blocking the doorway of the TARDIS.

 

"Where is Sherlock? We can do this together, Doctor. I believe that is what family is for." Castiel said, willing the Time Lord to drop his defensive pose and let them all in in the situation.

 

"I'm here." Sherlock's deep voice came from the TARDIS and the Doctor took a step aside.

 

The other boys entered the Time Machine and found the Consulting Detective sitting at the single chair in the console room of the TARDIS. He’s pale and looking like he’s sick.

 

The younger Winchester stood in front of the detective and softens his posture, "Sherlock...? What happened?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Fuck that shit." Dean snapped, causing Sherlock to give a deep sigh.

 

Sherlock looked up to Dean, shivering and his eyes couldn't focus on a point as if his attention kept on wavering. “You, of all people, should know that some things better be left alone.”

 

“Yeah, but not this! You look awful!” Dean shouted and Sam raised his hand to calm his raging brother, but Dean turned his head to the others.

 

“You all, outside. Now.” He looked back to the Consulting Detective. “We need to talk.”

 

Castiel understood and walked outside, causing the others to follow. “What is he doing?” Sam asked.

 

Castiel signed that he must be silent and his eyes met John's. “Did he say anything before he jumped? I mean, except for those lies.”

 

The ex-military shook his head. “I don't remember it that well. I remember seeing Sherlock, hearing his voice through the phone, and then that bike hit me. I coudn't focus on his words anymore, but he may have said something then.”

 

Castiel just nodded as he contemplates this new information. The Doctor still looked pretty shaken by something else and Sam deemed it necessary to get those dread out of his system.

 

"What was your plan, huh? What?" Dean challenged once all the others are outside and the door securely separates them. It was shocking that the Doctor left them to their own devices inside his TARDIS but that must simply be the call of the situation.

 

"Sherlock, tell me." Dean insisted.

 

"Dismantle the network, Dean. What else?!" Sherlock answered his tone clearly aggravated, he stood up and started pacing around the console. "But something happened with the Doctor. I know there is, but he won't tell me."

 

"Why do you look like that?" Dean asked, completely ignoring what Sherlock said about the Doctor.

 

"Why do you think?" Sherlock stopped and heaved a sigh before fixing his gaze to Dean. "Its been months, and I'm working."

 

"Damn good job doing it. I see you like it rough. Evident by the bruises." Dean sarcastically said. "Why didn't you asked for our help? We would gladly help you and it would have been hell of a lot easier!"

 

"Yes it would have been. But that's exactly the same reason why I'm working alone. John, you, Sam, Castiel, the Doctor, you are all a reliability to me. They could use you against me." Sherlock explained and he now looked more tired than ever.

 

"You said, the news said that Moriarty shot himself in the head."

 

"He did. Through his mouth."

 

"But...?" Dean prompted.

 

"He faked it too." The TARDIS door opened and in came the Timelord, followed by John, Sam and the angel.

 

"I know, I saw him." The Doctor added as he looked at his feet, avoiding anyone's gaze.

 

"You... saw him?" Dean skeptically asked.

 

That was when Sam started talking -when ordered to get out of the Time Machine they cornered the Doctor and asked _(forced)_ him to explain- "When going to Sherlock's location, The Doctor got the date and time wrong. Everything is done, its good but one thing isnt. Because Moriarty's back."

 

"When?"

 

"2016." Sam simply said.

 

John walked up to Sherlock and starts soothing his detective who trembles under his hands, apologizing over and over to him under his breath and John just held him close. For now, they don't have to worry. 2016 is still far away.

 

* * *

 

A few days later John found himself back to their flat at Baker Street as Sherlock was still recovering from his encounter against Moriarty’s network. The Consulting Detective’s recovery is pretty quick though, which is good as John’s Doctor instincts and knowledge said.

 

“Are you feeling better?” John walked into the living room, causing Mrs. Hudson to mumble, “I better take another teacup.”

 

Sherlock shook his head and said, “Bored. Give me something. Now.”

 

John rolled his eyes. “Sherlock, I've already told you that you needed some rest. By the way, you know that the Winchesters, Cas and the Doctor are coming any second now.”

 

He accepted Mrs. Hudson's tea. “Thank you. And Mrs. Hudson?” She turned around. “Would you please clean the kitchen? We're going to be busy. Please?”

 

“Not your housekeeper, dear.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!” John said –knowing their lovely landlady would do it anyway- at the exact same moment Sherlock went to open the door.

 

Taking big steps to the door, the Consulting Detective and his ex-military sidekick both were thinking the same: _One year. We have one year. Maybe not as far away as we thought._

 

Opening the door, they saw the Winchesters has arrived.

“Sherlock,” the youngest son, Sam, greeted and shook his hand. “You look much better.” Sam said, causing John to smile.

 

“Yes. Well, what a few days of being useless can do.” Sherlock said..

 

Dean was way more open then Sam. “Hey! How are you?” He pointed this question towards John, who didn't even have the time to react before a scream sounded downstairs.

 

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock screamed, running downstairs with John close to his lead.

 

The two boys stood in the door frame while another scream yanked them out of their confusion.

 

“There's someone in danger! C'mon, Sammy!”

 

When they reached the first floor, they saw what happened. First thing that caught their attention was a big blue box in the middle of the room. Sam immediately understood what happened.

 

“Mrs. Hudson must have seen the Doctor appear…” and then, after seeing the angel in the corner of the room with his head tilted in the confused way of his –eyes squinting-, Sam added, “I think the second scream was Castiel appearing. Oh my god, she must have been scared for life!”

 

Mrs. Hudson was lying in the middle of the room, unconscious. John picked her up and carried her to her flat. He carefully put Mrs. Hudson down to her couch in her living room as the others ushered after him. Checking her for any concussion or injuries, John turned his doctor mode on.

 

Satisfied with what he found, John sighed and gave the other boys a stare before going to the kitchen and brings a glass of water back.

 

Writing a small note to Mrs. Hudson and putting it under the glass, John gestures for the others to go back upstairs as he shut Sherlock’s frantic questions concerning Mrs. Hudson’s well–being.

 

“She’s fine, Sherlock. Settle down already!”

 

Sherlock turned to the Doctor fixing him a deadly glare saying “you hurt my landlady prepare to die” but lets face it, as if he could kill the Time Lord.

 

“Yes, well I didn't know there was another person living here. You just gave me the address!” The Doctor sheepishly counters.

 

“You’ve always known the address!”

 

“Yeah! I did!”

 

“'Yes, and that was a mistake.”

 

“What, not telling me there was another human in here, or giving me your address?”

 

Sherlock was just going to react when Sam stepped in, laying his large hands on their shoulder and puts a space between them.

 

“Can you stop bickering and start talking about why we're here! Everybody sit down. Doctor, can you park your blue box somewhere else?”

 

The Doctor nodded, and went back to his TARDIS. A second later the blue box was gone and they heard the door slam.

 

When everyone has settled down, the Doctor came into the room, wearing a Fez, causing Sherlock to make a weird face at the _“hideous type of hat.” –“Well as if you’re hat looks any better.”_

 

“The door was still open. I closed it. Can we now start?” The Doctor said, back to his cheerful albeit sometimes childish self.

 

Castiel chose to stand behind Dean while the hunter sits at the couch with his brother and the Doctor. Sherlock and John on their respective seats at their own flat, sipping their tea.

 

"Well?" Dean prompted. Always the impatient one.

 

"I don't know." John said, placing his teacup to the table beside him. "It seems killing is not a possibility."

 

"Yet." Sam cleared, "We cant kill him just yet because he's not yet around."

 

"What happened to the network? I was half done." Sherlock said before his phone started ringing.

 

Looking at the caller id, Sherlock tapped the screen before pressing his phone to his ear.

 

"Mycroft."

 

**“Hello, brother mine. How do you feel?”**

 

"I’m good. But that's not the reason why you called. Tell me, quick."

 

There's an irritated sigh in the line before Mycroft continues. The other men were looking and listening to Sherlock.

 

**“Moriarty's network is completely dead. I dont know how since you are already here. But I'm telling you Sherlock. It's done.”**

 

"Good to know." Sherlock said and he dropped the line. Turning his gaze to the angel in the room, the detective asked. "What did you do?"

 

"I simply finished your work. It was easy. They weren't that hard to catch. And I made sure that everything is clean." Castiel answered, his face a mask of innocence he always seems to have -except when he's angry.

 

"Why?"

 

"Sherlock, I laid siege against hell in order to find a single soul. I think dismantling a network of people who does bad in this world is not a hardship to do."

 

There was a tap in the door and Sherlock let the topic drop. John, who is clearly amused by the conversation between the two stood up and opens the door.

 

Anthea -Mycroft's Secretary simply handed him a folder without a word and quickly took the flight of steps and out of the door to her car.

 

Frowning, John turned to the others. "Well, she was in a hurry."

 

John dropped the folder to the coffee table in front of their visitors. Sam quickly gathered it and read the contents, laying out pictures and information to the table.

 

"It seems Cas did a really clean job." Dean proudly said as he was showing a picture of a bunch of thug looking people and men in suits with their eyes burnt out. "Pretty clean, dontcha think? ha!"

 

Castiel mumbles a “Thank you, Dean.” To his hunter who gave him a wink and resumed looking at the research laid in front of them.

 

"Your brother, Mycroft, cleaned the place according to this."

 

"Who is this?" The Doctor suddenly asked, holding up a picture of a man whose face is graced with a confident smirk and eyes that stare deep into you as if he personally knows you without a doubt. But it didn’t escaped Castiel -the dead look in them, in the depths of those seemingly black irises, Castiel can see the killer in it.

 

Sherlock inhaled sharply. "That's Moran. Sebastian Moran."


	2. The Right Hand Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the picture is found, some more key information is needed. Who exactly is Sebastian Moran?

“Did you get him?” Sam asked the angel who shook his head in confusion.

 

“Haven't even seen him. I don't know why this picture is between the others.”

 

Sherlock's phone rang again. He picked up and the others stare at him with a surprised look when he said, “Mycroft. Did you put the picture of Sebastian Moran in the paquet?”

 

They saw the look on the Consulting Detective's face change from thinking into real fear. They had never seen him so horrified. Sherlock closed the phone and looks at his lap. “They didn’t.”

 

John had to ask what everybody was thinking. “They didn’t put the picture of Sebastian Moran in there?”

 

Sherlock breathed in, eyes slowly starting to fill with happiness. He turned to his friends as he said, “He isn't dead. The second most import man isn't dead! Finally something to do!”

 

Sherlock was practically bouncing on his feet as he took his coat, put the collar up and declared, “The game, my best friends, was never over!”

 

He walked out of the room, causing everyone to jump up, take their jackets and run after him, wondering what he was going to do.

 

Sherlock entered the New Scotland Yard with the same air of confidence and familiarity, which of course turns attention to him and his company because, you know, he’s supposed to be dead. Jumped off the roof, smashed skull, dead, _dead_. The boys walked inside Detective Inspector Lestrade’s office without so much as a permission. Lestrade looked up, eyes starting to widen when he realized Sherlock should be dead and buried and not marching inside his office.

 

“Sherlock? You're alive!”

 

Sherlock looked at him -a small movement of his eyes. “Yes, I am, Lestrade. And I'm here to solve the mystery of Moran.”

 

Lestrade got out of his chair and turned to the group entering the suddenly too small office and said, “Okay, I understand that you need a backup group. But who the hell are they?”

 

John answered, because Sherlock was busy checking the desk.

 

“You know me. And who they are... Well, it's complicated.”

 

The Doctor took a step a step forward and enthusiastically introduced himself, “Hello! I’m the Doctor, I’m a Time Lord and I travel using a time traveling blue box, called the TARDIS! It means Time And Relative Dimension In Space.'

 

Castiel watched the Doctor while saying this and said: “Well, if we're going to say what we really are: I'm Castiel, I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

 

The two brothers glared at each other -clearly uncomfortable with the sudden turn of events before Sam said: “I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean. We're hunters.”

 

Lestrade looks at them, confused and skeptical for a second. If these people are who they say they are, it would explain a Hell of a lot of unsolved cases. And if Sherlock believes them, who is he to doubt? He decided to believe them, hoping it wasn't a stupid decision.

 

“So you two, you don't have any superpowers?” Lestrade said, pointing at the brothers.

 

Again, they looked at each other, uncomfortable.

 

“We, ah, well, we hunt demons and the… unnatural.” Sam answers –squinting at the last word while his brother feigned a wistful look and let his eyes roam the Detective Inspector’s office.

 

"The Supernatural." John helpfully intervened and both brothers sighed in relief (Dean trying to stifle it), while nodding to Lestrade as if willing the Detective Inspector to believe them.

 

 _Hmpf, Them British,_  Dean thought.

 

 _Hm, them English,_  Sam thought.

 

"And you bastards just decided to walk into New Scotland Yard and straight into my office without warn- bollocks! You were dead, Sherlock! Dead, dead!" Lestrade suddenly snapped.

 

The brothers cowered a bit at the sudden eruption of the Detective Inspector in front of them. The Doctor raised an impressed eyebrow to the man, while John blatantly smiled at Lestrade's reaction.

 

 _Serves you right for doing that thing, Sherlock._  John thought.

 

Castiel, meanwhile -staying the innocent angel that he is- frowned at all that and said, "I dont understand. I thought you were friends."

 

"Yes we are!” Lestrade rounded at the angel who looks unamused at his reaction. “But this is paperwork for me again. And you know how you never do the paperwork for cases, Sherlock." Lestrade said, clearing his desk of the papers and sat back on his comfy office chair while twirling his pen in his right hand. "Why are you here again?"

 

"A case, involving Moran. Sebastian Moran."

 

"Oh I presume thats the file your brother just recently sent it."

 

"Where is it?" Sam asked, itching to study the file and do research.

 

"Donovan is printing it."

 

And speak of the devil. There was a knock on the door and Lestrade answered for the person to open it. But The Doctor opened the door, revealing, instead of Donovan, Anderson whose eyes immediately fell to Sherlock.

 

The forensic researcher made an inhuman sound as he practically bounced his way inside, causing the Doctor to immediately close the door in sheer fright.

 

Anderson gripped Sherlock's coat -feeling the Consulting Detective and checking if he's real flesh and blood- the file completely forgotten on the floor where he dropped it when he saw Sherlock.

 

"Sherlock. Is that you? Oh my god! Haha! I knew it. You're alive!" Anderson made another inhuman sound before he turned to Lestrade. "I told you! He's alive!"

 

"Yes, I am, Anderson. And you seem to have forgotten the basics of personal hygiene, judging by that almost three week growing beard and hmph" Sherlock sniffed the air around and continued, "smell." He simply finished.

 

"And you're still the same." Anderson commented.

 

"Like I said, brilliant Anderson."

 

"Yes, brilliant impression of an idiot." Sherlock and Anderson said at the same time.

 

Anderson laughed loudly and waved his hands before making his exit out of Lestrade's office, intent on announcing the comeback of the great Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t even pay the other people in the room some attention.

 

"He's gone mad." John said once Anderson was out of the room.

 

"Just minor lapse in the brain, John. Dont be too surprised." Sherlock said as he turned to Sam.

 

The Americans in the room completely ignored the whole encounter and proceeded to study the file dropped by the "weird, crazy bearded british guy" as Dean smartly puts it.

 

The Doctor was the one who walked closer to them first, standing beside the taller Winchester. He committed the picture of the man in his memory. Willing himself to remember that day in 2016.

 

The day when he made that mistake and found out that Moriarty is back.

 

"No, he really wasn't there when I cleaned the area." Castiel said.

 

Sherlock let the others to study the file as he paced around the room, hands in a prayer - like position under his chin. "Well, Castiel. With you completely and absolutely dismantling the network. It will be hard for them to recover. Which gives us time."

 

Lestrade let them talk as he listened closely, trying to piece the story with the facts laid out in front of him. John stayed at his position by the door, content on watching his detective and letting the Winchesters, their angel and the Doctor to study the file first.

 

Sure, John saw the picture and he felt an inkling of acknowledgement to the man he's sure he had seen before. But he couldn't remember where.

 

"This is a very extensive research. Your brother got this in what? 15 minutes?" Dean suddenly asked after Sam passed him a couple of papers.

 

"He's the British Government." Sherlock answered, staring at the window in Lestrade's office to the road below and to the building across where a message was once written for him.

 

**_I. O. U._ **

 

"Says here he's a sniper. And once worked for the military." Sam said, his eyes roaming the paper in his hands as he translated the information to the room. "He failed a mission because he got shot. In the left shoulder and since then he disappeared. This is the last picture they took of him."

 

 _And oh! That's it, isn't it?!_ John thought. That's where he saw Moran, in the military! "I suppose that file says what the mission is?"

 

" _Project Cannoli._  Afghanistan."

 

"Cannoli?!" Dean incredulously said.

 

"Yes, Dean." Sam said, knowing where his brother was getting at.

 

"That's food! I officially declare you Brits guys as weird!" Dean said.

 

Sherlock smirked while Lestrade started laughing. The detective liked this smaller hunter.

 

Realization dawned to John and he stood properly, hands opening and closing on his sides, "Yeah I know that. We fought there."

 

"It says here it failed."

 

"Yeah, it failed. I was ordered to retreat so I followed the command and returned the land battalion back to base when the aerial attack failed." John said.

 

"Yeah, that's right. According to this." Dean confirms, reading the papers in his hands.

 

"I didn't know someone was shot."

 

"So get this, the land battalion was ordered to retreat when the aerial attack failed because the snipers were ambushed directly from their position. All of them died, except for Moran, who endured a shot in the shoulder. He was found clutching the dying body of one of the 'guerillas' who attacked him. Apparently he was 'interrogating' that man for information on the said ambush." Sam read out loud and then laid the paper down to his lap as he took a seat at one of the chairs in the DI’s office.

 

"By interrogating you mean torturing." Castiel cleared, not really a question so Sam decided to stay silent and just nod at the angel's remark.

 

"Well. We seem to have a very formidable foe at hand." The Doctor said.

 

"Let's go. Lestrade tell me when something arrives." Sherlock said.

 

The gang exited the yard and out into the busy streets of London. Thankfully, they were able to have Baby in London too. The Winchesters, Castiel and the Doctor sat in the beautiful Chevy Impala, who catches the attention of some of the people in the streets, while Sherlock and John took a cab ride back to Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Chapter 2 is finally finished! Chapter three is in the making!


	3. Cluedo and Murder

"Basically he's a sniper, an ex - soldier and Moriarty's right hand man." Dean said around a mouthful of what he'd say the best carbonara he'd ever tasted. "This is really good. I dont eat pasta really, but this. Mmm."

 

Sam gave him a face that questions his table manners but his brother just gave him a cocky eyebrow movement. The gang is having lunch at Baker Street, the food courtesy of the now very conscious Mrs. Hudson.

 

"Yes, that would be it." John nods.

 

"Except he's much of a predator to us than we are as a predator to him." Sherlock observed over the rim of his glass of water. John forces him to eat nowadays, saying he need to recuperate and have his stamina back _-"Sherlock, I'm requesting as your doctor-" "I can always fin- "AS YOUR FRIEND!"_

 

The Doctor hums his approval, setting down his fork to reach over for a slice of pie. "There's six of us. There's only one of him. We have an angel at our disposal, two Hunters, one ex - soldier and a consulting detective with the British Government as his brother. I'd say we tap that!"

 

"Yeah, well. Said angel ran of for heavenly business." Dean mumbles as he reach over for a slice (or two) of pie. "This better taste good."

 

And yes, it does taste good.

 

"Stop it, Dean. We all know Cas always come when you call." Sam snickers before drinking, looking over at his brother who is moaning at the taste of pie at his mouth.

 

"Like I said earlier, you brits might be weird. But _this_ -your food is great!"

 

"Thank you, dear Dean." Mrs. Hudson chirped in, she walked through the door by the kitchen and sat beside Dean but turned down the offer to eat with them -saying she already ate before they arrived since she could not wait for them anymore. "Just dont shock me again next time. Where's the lovely man in a tan trench coat? You know, the one who's always beside you?"

 

"Cas? He's on heavenly business. And he gave his slice of pie to me."

 

Speak of the angel, there's a flutter of wings behind Dean and the usual. "Hello, Dean."

 

Dean jumped at his seat, "Jesus Cas!"

 

Castiel frowns, tilting his head and squinting at the back of Dean's head. "I'm... Castiel. He is, however my half brother. But I actually got to meet him just once."

 

The whole table chuckles and Mrs. Hudson stood up to offer Castiel the chair she's sitting at.

 

"No, thank you Mrs. Hudson but I'm fine. I hope you are feeling alright now."

 

"I am, dear. Don't worry." Mrs. Hudson smiles at Castiel. Sherlock stood up, having finished eating his meal and leans against the kitchen counter. Hands in prayer - like pose under his chin he said, "Moran is not going to attack any sooner. With the news now that I am alive they're going to lay low and try to rebuild whatever they can of the network."

 

"How sure are you, Sherlock?" John asked.

 

"Well anything that might happen will NOT lead us to him. But that's his goal, he expects us to believe it."

 

"Anything that will happen will just be a distraction. Is that what you're saying?" Sam asked.

 

"Yes."

 

They finished their food and retreats to the living room, Sam and John left to wash and dry the dishes. The angel is standing by the fireplace and is having a staring contest at the skull on the mantle.

 

"This skull is tha-"

 

"He's s friend of mine." Sherlock interjects and Castiel nods.

 

"Well if you're a friend with Billy, a Somalian Pirate who died when he was forced to jump from the flank of the ship by their captain when they were traveling at the east coast of Europe and was retrieved when people from the Navy found him and buries him..." Castiel explained, all the while staring at the skull then he looked up to Sherlock and said, "Okay then."

 

"Well Sherlock always wanted to be a pirate." The Doctor commented as he fiddles with Sam's laptop. Frustrated with so many buttons to push, The Doctor resorted to just use his sonic screwdriver to have the machine do what he wants.

 

Sherlock huffs and practically drops his body at his chair, "Bored."

 

Dean chuckles from his position at the couch, Moran's file in his hands. "Deal with it, Detective Yoda."

 

Sherlock turned to him, "Really, Dean. That was lame."

 

"Well what do you want? Power Puff Curls?" Dean said, giving Sherlock a troll face. "Its enough Cas has a teenage mutant ninja angel for a brother."

 

The sides of Castiel's mouth twitches upward –remembering that night when he and Dean trapped his brother, the archangel Raphael- the angel now staring at the busy London street below. Sam pats his hands on the side of his legs  to dry them off before snatching his laptop back from the Doctor who looked a bit hurt by the act but quickly deflates when he saw the playful look at Sam's face.

 

John squints at Sherlock when he took his seat -the telly blaring nonsense when he turned it on before sitting in front of the detective. "Well?"

 

"Well what, John?"

 

John huffs and stood, fetching his laptop from his desk and goes back to his sit. Opting to check his email and/or update his blog than entertain the bored Consulting Detective sitting across from him.

 

"Well, Castiel can play Cluedo with me." Sherlock suggested, turning his head to look at the confused angel.

 

Dean actually snorts at that knowing what is Castiel's answer already and silently speaks the words to himself, mimicking the words silently as Castiel says them out loud.

 

"I... uh- don't know what you're talking about."

 

Sherlock sighed, irritated. Castiel looked at Dean for help and the elder Winchester kindly explained while smiling. "It's a board game, Cas. Like Twister but not quite not like Twister."

 

"Oh." Castiel said, he had this look of interest on his face before saying, "I think I'd like to learn how to play that."

 

Having tried to play it with Sherlock. Sam, Dean, the Doctor and John all said at the same time. "No you don't."

 

"Why not?!" Sherlock incredulously questioned, looking for all the world the most offended person ever.

 

"Because you don't follow the rules." The Doctor said, looking at Sherlock and remembering the first and only time they played the game together. Like always, Sherlock declared the victim to be his own killer.

 

"That's because the rules are wrong!"

 

"Nope." The four said again and the angel at the room just nods and turns his attention back to the street below enjoying the view and the people -how normal, peaceful and seemingly organized they look. How they simply just live their lives, unknowing of the forces that hides in the dark, or the power that lives by merely using the mind, nor the adventures that even go to as far as the universe would go. Castiel always admires his Father's creations, especially the humans -they all have big plans reserved to them, if only they pause for a while and realize its their lives' value and how much it means.

 

Just when Sherlock gets super frustrated and ran his fingers through his locks and pull them irritatingly for the seventh time (which causes amusement to the whole room, which of course adds more to Sherlock's frustration) Sherlock's phone rang.

 

Sherlock jumped up and grabbed his phone. His face was pure happiness, but the sound of his voice couldn't sound more bored than this.

 

''Sherlock Holmes.''

 

He nodded while listening to the caller and then said: ''Wait. I'll put you on speaker.''

 

He clicked the button and they all heard: ''Hello guys. It's Lestrade. Murder on the corner of York and Knox Street. There's something you would love to see.''

 

John looked up, a frown on his face. ''That's very close. Sure Moran doesn't want to send a message?''

 

''Yes John. I'm very sure,'' Sherlock answered while he jumped up and grabbed a coat.

 

''So, you're all coming with me, right?'' The Consulting Detective asked, his stance already prepared to go but he turned his head sideways to his best friends.

 

Everyone nodded, and Mrs. Hudson kindly said: ''Go, my boys, I'll clean everything.''

 

They all, again at the same time, said: ''Thank you Mrs. Hudson!'' and ran off, coats flapping in the wind.

 

While they are going to the place of crime, John stepped next to the Doctor. The Time Lord turned his face to John and said happily, ''My first murder! Do you think it will be interesting?''

 

John smiled at the Doctor’s criticism, thinking: 'With all you guys, it sure as hell will be interesting!' But he answered: ''Solving a murder is hard work, but it's interesting in the way that you learn how criminal's minds work.''

 

The Doctor nodded, seemingly happy with this information and turned his head back to the road to think about it.

 

Meanwhile the Americans were talking, vived moving with their hands.

 

''Sam, don't forget, it's probably not a supernatural death. No ghosts, no demons, just human.'' Dean said for like the umpteenth time, only in different phrasing.

 

''Yeah, I know! I'm not an idiot, Dean! But it's not because we're in London that it's a demon free environment. We can always keep an eye out.''

 

''I know, but we looked at the map and did some research. There's nothing really interesting going on around here.''

 

Castiel came in between the brothers before they continue their brother’s quarrel: ''We're almost at the crime scene. Focus, please.''

 

The whole route long, he was staring in front of him, trying to understand humanity. It was that Castiel gave up trying when he met the Winchesters, but other human beings were just as interesting. He couldn't stop comparing them to bees in a bee hive. All working together, somehow. But then, why would one kill the other? He assumed that's where emotions like _greed, passion_ or _anger_ found their place.

 

He suddenly felt a pull on the back of his trench coat and a sharp, angry ''Watch out!''

 

He needed to take a step back from the pull. Then he turned around, staring at Dean, who was holding the edge of his coat. His fingers felt warm against his neck. But Dean looked shocked and relieved.

 

''Goddamnit, Cas! You trying to get yourself killed?!''

 

Dean was terrified when he saw Cast mindlessly stepping on the street, right in front of an approaching car. He could barely grab him and pull him back.

 

And now Cas was looking at him with that typical confused stare of him.

 

''Dean. What did I do?''

 

''You were thinking about something and almost stepped right in front of a car! You scared the fuck out of me!''

 

The others now noticed the yelling from Dean and went to the pair. Sam arrived first, asking what happened. Dean briefly explained to everyone why he was screaming, but the angel added a short: ''Dean. Stay calm. I can't die because of that.''

 

''Yeah but still. Dude, pay a little bit of attention to your surroundings.'' Dean wanted to pull him in for a short hug, but didn't dare to do that in front of the whole group. _Damn chick – flick moments, shut your brain, Dean._ he thought.

 

Sherlock interrupted the silence that fell by simply saying: ''We've arrived, by the way.''

 

The group turned to look behind Sherlock where people in police uniforms are milling around, the place guarded by the yellow police tape and Lestrade waved at them behind a wreckage of splints and wood and yes, that red thing is blood.


	4. The First Masterpiece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ: Chapter contains murder. A very gore-y one. We warned you so, yeah. Its fairly bloody, so we're not sure -but if you dont like those, you can skip to the last part of the chapter.
> 
> [I apologize if the murder is too much, I just wrote it and this will be the first time. ~theGWof221B]

Lestrade waved at them before approaching the huddled group and they all dispersed, satisfied that Castiel wasn't harmed -well, it's not like a simple car would break the angel, its more likely that he'd break the car.

 

"Sherlock and... company, I suppose." Lestrade greeted. Sherlock held the police tape high to let the others pass, Castiel squinting confusingly at the Detective but Dean grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and dragged him to the other side of the tape.

 

"What happened? We just took our lunch and now..." John asked, waving his hand to the scene in front of them. "I'm still digesting the food, for Christ's sake!"

 

Lestrade rolls his eyes, "Don't act like you don't like it."

 

Sherlock strode quickly to the crime scene. "You've missed this, John. Don't even attempt to hide it."

 

The Doctor chuckled, smiling like a child on his birthday party and followed John and Lestrade. The Americans behind them again, with Castiel frowning so hard it's weird and his head tilted to the side. "Why would someone miss a murder scene?" The Winchesters chuckled and shook their head at the angel's skepticism. Dean just grabbed his arm and walked with him to the others, afraid of the earlier incident happening to his angel again.

 

The boys and Lestrade stood in front of a beheaded man, with the victim himself carrying his own head as offering it up to the sky above -blood still dripping from where it separated from the body. The eyes were open and staring to the emptiness above almost reverently while his body was bound to the bark of a tree planted to a huge rectangular pot -specifically to hold the tree and place it in such an open place with no soil to grow. The intestines were falling out of the victim's lower torso. The tubes lined up as though the killer took his sweet time to arrange them as such. His feet, nailed to the roots of the tree, were clean. So were his fingernails -but those are dirtied by the clotting blood.

 

His hair was immaculately combed even with the whole dissection of his body. Even the face of the beheaded was clean from any marks, blood or dirt. The boys all wore a poker face as they stared up at the Killer's masterpiece, Lestrade ordering Anderson to shut up and let Sherlock and his company to do their thing first.

 

Dean is the one who broke the deafening silence between all of them. "All right, Hannibal. Great masterpiece, we know it's you. Now we call Graham.''

 

He turned around, looking to the rest of the group as if he expected one of them to turn around and start acting like Graham.

 

Sam sighed and pinched his nose. Castiel was staring at the victim -not even flinching as he took in every inch of its marred body. "This is disrespectful to such a beautiful creation of the Lord. I've never seen a human capable of such ... wrongdoing." The angel said.

 

The Doctor seemed moved by the whole scene in front of them as well. "I've never seen a race who can do this. No wonder aliens want to rule over you or take your planet. They don't need to extinct you anymore, you're doing it yourself.''

 

John huffed and look away, turning his gaze to the others. Sherlock took that as a queue to walk around the victim. Observing the tree where it is bound while rattling off his deductions. "His stomach was opened and the intestines ripped out while he was being beheaded -suggesting the use of a machine to do so." Sherlock said gesturing to the head in the hand of the victim.

 

 

"Both cut wounds are fresh, and I bet the forensic will found out just what I said. The intestines then are arrange at this ... way, showing the killer took his time to do just that. His feet were nailed to the tree post-mortem, just as his spine which is tied to the tree if you would look at it." The others listen to Sherlock, even daring to look between the body and the tree -and yes, Sherlock is right, a part of the goddamn spine is protruding from the back, skin peeled off and a thin, strong nylon securely tying it to the tree.

 

John couldn't help but saying: ''God, who would do that? We've been running around in different crime scenes and i haven't seen something like this before!'' as the Doctor and Sam turned away, barely able to look at it.

 

Dean added: ''And where would you find a machine that is able to cut the head off and rip out the intestines at the same moment?''

 

The Consulting Detective was standing in front of the victim again. "Dean, the more important question is how the body was brought here. And how it was attached to the tree, in the middle of London, and nobody saw it. But to answer your question, he was being beheaded _while_ the killer is pulling his internal organs out.'' Dean nodded, making a gesture that implied that he was right and fine, thanks for the scarring image.

 

Sherlock, of course, was already rattling again about the victim and didn't see it. ''This man was immaculately dressed everyday, whether at his home or for his job. The hair is like that -there's no need to arrange it, the killer just had to clean the splatters of blood from the face when it was cut off. But he missed a spot just behind the right ear, do you see? He took precautions in tying his victim to the bark of tree, opting to do the tying in the spine first and then nailing the feet on second thought, which is why there is no soil or dirt in the toenails.'' When he turned around and saw the confused look on his friend's faces, he added: ''He didn't have to support the body in a standing position since it's already tied up. The feet were first hanging loosely, because the spine was tied to the tree.''

 

After turning around again, Sherlock finished, but he still had this look of thinking on his face. "But why place it like this. He's not a religious man who seeks sight to the heavens up above! He's not even mocking them, no. He won't do that. That's so low for him and he wouldn't make such masterpiece just to mock such religious beliefs!" The Detective said, now getting frustrated when he can't get what this criminal is trying to communicate with his ... crime.

 

"Is this Moran?" Sam asked. Sherlock paused, not even answering just staring at an empty space behind the body. Lestrade looked at the younger Winchester with wide, horrified eyes.

 

"My first murder! Bloody and gore-ish. With a beheaded man holding his head up and his intestines ripped out. _Definitely a murder._ " The Doctor said, the last part said as though he's still contemplating if its real or not.

 

"Wait, you think this is Moran? The one we talked about earlier?" Lestrade asked getting in between Sherlock and the Winchesters.

 

"Possibly." John said. "But everything that might happen is just a distraction-"

 

"No, this is not a distraction. He's trying to tell us - _me_ \- something." Sherlock suddenly said. Pacing hurriedly around the victim.

 

"Lestrade, you have to identify this victim. Send me crime scene photos and information."

 

"If he beheaded the person, why is it necessary to rip the intestines out. It wouldn't make the man even more... _dead_." Castiel observed, his head tilted to the side while he squints at the hanging corpse. His gaze falling to the Doctor when he turned.

 

"Its more fun to him, Cas. Like I said, demons I get, people are crazy." Dean answered from behind the angel, but Castiel started complaining.

 

"But sti-"

 

"Its art, Castiel. This is art for him." The Doctor said.

 

"Dean," Sam said to his brother, patting him in the back to get his attention. "Do you really think this is... human?"

 

"Sam, we've talked about this earlier. We're here to deal with this human... crime!"

 

"But look at it!" Sam gestures to the body. "Really?! Do the crimes here look this bad?"

 

"Sam," Sherlock said, already on his way away from the crime scene. "This isn't your normal -gig. This one is humanity, and you have to face it."

 

A few hours later, they sat back in the flat, with pictures of the crime scene. They all had taken a seat and watched Sherlock thinking for the past 30 minutes. Nobody said anything, they only moved to get closer to the photos or to get more tea or coffee.

 

Cas broke the silence: ''You wanted to know who it was?''

 

Everybody turned their gaze to him, curious and questioning.

 

''Do you know who it is? Or was?'' John asked.

 

Sherlock smashed himself on the head. ''Of course you do. How did I forget. Billy. You identified my skull.'' Sherlock said, rolling his eyes at his own momentary lapse of ignorance.

Dean stood up, slowly walked to Castiel and brought his face to an inch, or less, from his face -not even caring about his own lectures on personal space. ''Why didn't you tell us directly? We could've made a lot more progress if you would've told us earlier.'' He didn't say it very loud, only Cas could hear him, but the anger was visible in all his moves and feautures as he continue to purse his lips and frown.

 

The Angel didn't even flinch. ''I needed to know for sure if nobody, or nothing, could hear us.'' Sherlock now looked alarmed.

 

''What do you mean, ''nobody could hear us''?'' Dean backed away from the Angel while he walked to the bookshelves and reached behind a book.

 

''I meant things like this,'' he said while showing them something mechanical, not bigger then the tip of your finger. Sherlock stood up: ''I'm getting blind. I'm such an idiot.'' And then louder he yelled: ''Mrs Hudson! I told you to not dust the room!'' They all waited silently for the answer.

 

''I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I couldn't handle all the dust anymore!'' came the shouted answer from below.

 

Sam now looked at Sherlock, questioning. ''You don't dust?''

 

John answered for Sherlock, who was busy mumbling something along the lines of _''I'm such an idiot!''_ to himself.

 

''No, he doesn't. He wants to see if someone passed by. It's some sort of deduction thing.''

 

Sherlock stopped and asked Castiel if he found more of these. ''No. This is the only one.'' The angel answered, still staring at the tiny thing at his fingers. With the energy he possessed he easily disabled and broke all connections in the device. How compelling, humans do have the intelligence in them. This is one of the reasons why Castiel loves humanity.

 

''Great,'' Dean snached it out of his hands, threw it on the floor and stepped on it.

 

''There's no way they could hear us now.''

 

''I-uh already-" Castiel stammered then decided against it. He fixed his stare at the photographs and printed papers at the table and pinned in the wall where Sherlock placed them _"strategically"_ that only the detective himself can understand.

 

"Good. I can now say that the dead man was an accomplice of Moran.'


End file.
